It was as if no one in the room was breathing, they were afraid it might steal his last breath from him. The silence felt perpetual and omnipresent, suspending all of them in its stagnation as they waited to be beckoned to his side. Any small cough or scraping of chair legs forced their hearts forward two beats.
Aang was dying. Nobody wanted to say it out loud. Nobody wanted to believe that the Avatar, barely entering his sixtieth year, could already be slipping away. But as his rapidly failing health forced him into bed rest they realized they'd been fools to forget he was actually a hundred and sixty. He'd spent a hundred years in a state removed from time, protected from its glances and shielded from its blows. But now time had come at him with a vengeance. It crashed against him the way the powerful tides of the sea smashed against the shore, shattering glass and weathering stones. Time left him similarly battered. In a period of a few months he seemed to age decades and their hearts bled to watch the deterioration of the once vibrant man.
The end was approaching, they could all feel it, and even Katara's masterful healing could no longer slow its advance. All that was left to do was wait.
Kya sniffed beside her and the small noise startled Lin from her thoughts. She reached into the pocket of her dark green tunic and passed a handkerchief to the woman she'd always thought of as an older sister.
Kya accepted the offering gratefully, wiping at her nose with the handkerchief.
"It's okay Kya," Lin said quietly, trying to offer words of comfort that she knew were empty. Their father was dying, nothing was okay. But Lin had never been good at comforting people and it was the only thing she could think of to say.
"I… I wish I'd come home more," the typically easy going waterbender exclaimed unprompted, a new stream of tears running down her face. Lin had been a detective with the Republic City police for years now and she recognized the look on Kya's face plainly. It was the look that darkened the features of suspects in the interrogation room as the guilt gnawed at their carefully constructed barriers until the confession finally burst forth. Lin didn't know what to say to that. Kya had left on a mission to find herself when they were all much younger than they were now and she'd spent those years drifting about the world rudderless and carefree. She breezed in and out of Republic City only on occasion and only en route to her next, great destination. Her parents didn't begrudge her any of it and Aang had frequently joked that while she was a waterbender she had the wandering heart of an air nomad. But it didn't change the fact that she'd been largely absent from their lives for years, save when it suited her.
Lin reached up and placed her hand on Kya's shoulder giving it a small squeeze. She looked over at Katara, hoping she might have some words for her daughter but she was in a world of her own. Her hands clasped between her brother's. Aunt Mai sat quietly to her other side. Lin's own mother stood leaning stoically against the wall, her arms crossed and lips tightly pursed. Uncle Zuko was in the kitchen preparing another round of calming Jasmine tea for everybody.
They had all flowed onto Air Temple Island, sensing their last opportunity to say good bye. Lin was glad that they had all come back to be with Aang one last time but the influx of visitors also made her anxious. It made it so much more real. She wished Tenzin was still sitting by her side. He'd left an hour ago, having already been called in by Aang, to meditate. She didn't want him to leave even for a second but she knew that Tenzin was a creature of habit and maintaining his little rituals would be the only thing to keep him sane as he prepared to have a chunk of his life stolen from him. It made her skin crawl to think of what Tenzin would be losing. It transcended the personal loss of his father and also existed on a much grander scale of losing the only other person in this world like him. She knew Tenzin would wake up any morning now and have to bear the full weight of being the last airbender. Her relationship with Tenzin made her complicit in this weight and gave her just enough understanding to know that no one would truly be able to understand. It made her feel a little guilty for the depth of her own sorrow. How could her misery over the loss of a father figure compare to his loss of the one person in this world who knew what it meant to be an airbender? But Lin supposed everyone in this room was about to experience a unique and deeply personal loss. Who was she to appraise pain?
Bumi emerged from behind the doors that had been tightly closed. He was still wearing his United Forces uniform, though it was now rumpled looking having gone unpressed.
"Lin," she snapped to attention hearing her name, "he wants to see you," Bumi informed her.
Lin stood carefully and moved towards the doors, Bumi gave her a little pat on the back before holding the door open to her. Lin looked back once at the collection of people who had gathered to witness Aang's nearing release from this world, took a deep breath, and stepped through the threshold.
The room was dark, all the lanterns had been turned down since Aang mentioned the light hurt his eyes. The smell of sickness clung to the room's linens, the air was thick and unmoving which she imagined was most unbearable for the airbender. She moved to the window and opened it. Aang raised an arm and delicately bent a fresh breeze into the stale room.
"Thank you," he told her in a voice that now had the smallest hint of a wheeze to it.
"I wouldn't be able to stand how stuffy it is in here; I can't imagine how you feel," Lin responded.
"It's not so bad," he replied with his characteristic cheerful cadence.
"Do you need more water?" Lin asked, already pouring Aang a glass from the pitcher of cool liquid that sat atop the room's bureau. To Lin Beifong, love was action not words. Emotional phrases often got caught in her throat but she could always do things for the people she loved. It centered her. Had she and Tenzin not grown up together she imagined it would be a sore spot in their relationship. Tenzin told her several times a day how much he loved her while she reciprocated with uncomplicated actions like playful punches or bringing him his cup of tea just as he finished his morning meditation. But years together had taught them the intricacies of the other's habits and they knew neither's lacked feeling no matter how different the expression.
"I'm good, thank you," Aang said, nodding towards the glass in her hand.
"Well, I'm going to put it here just in case you change your mind," Lin said stubbornly, setting the glass on the bedside table, making sure it was in his reach.
She began straightening Aang's blankets, determined to keep her hands busy so she wouldn't have to take in Aang's worsening appearance all at once.
"Are you comfortable? I can get another blan-"
"Lin, Lin," he said pausing her bustling, "I'm fine...please just sit down," he invited her quietly.
Lin took a deep breath and resolutely plopped herself into the chair by his bedside, giving the man who'd been like a father to her the smallest of smiles.
"You were born in this room, you know," Aang told her, his eyes wandered around in a haze of memory.
"I know."
She'd heard the story several times from both Uncle Aang and her mother. Aang would always tell it with reverence. Highlighting the responsibility and honor he'd felt holding her in his arms while her mother fought for her life. Her mother would basically hit the points that Lin was a little shit who woke her up early but then took her sweet time crowning, that everyone was exaggerating about her near death and she just needed the extra rest after being in labor for 'a million years practically'… that was about it.
"You were so little then," he smiled.
Lin smiled back, wider this time. She'd never known who her father was. She'd asked her mother about it til her throat was raspy when she was a child. She had received a variety of responses over the years ranging from, 'Lin, it's really complicated' to 'that rock over there'. She'd eventually given up on the idea that her mother would ever tell her anything. Her Uncle Aang became the closest thing to a father she could imagine. Lin didn't like to admit this sort of thing out loud but she honestly felt a special bond with Aang had been forged the night she was born. Long before her relationship with Tenzin had placed her solidly in the family unit Aang had been extending the invitation. She was always welcome on the island and as a child her mother's busy work schedule meant there was frequently a place set for her at the Avatar family's table. When the struggle for peace took Aang far away he always returned with some sort of trinket for her the same as his own children. She could count on Uncle Aang to cheer her on, or listen to her complain, or make a really embarrassing toast at the really embarrassing engagement party Katara had thrown her and Tenzin. Those moments made her feel like she was a part of something special, like the circle of people who cared about her only rippled out and got wider beyond her small, broken, nuclear unit. Lin waded through her memories, discouraged to see that Aang's failing health was draining some of the color from them.
Aang cleared his throat and coughed a few times. She didn't like the rattling sound it made in his chest, that couldn't be good.
"Tenzin told me that you're talking about children again," Aang revealed slowly, watching her face for reaction.
Lin was caught completely off guard by Aang's straightforward announcement. They had only been talking. Tenzin shouldn't have brought this up. Her brow furrowed against her will as she let out something like a hiss from between her teeth.
"What part of 'say nothing' doesn't he understand?" Lin implored candidly, having no need to censor her crass manner in front of Aang.
"You know Ten," he supplied, "when he's hiding something his eyes get all big and do that shifty thing."
"I hate that shifty thing," Lin muttered mostly to herself.
"So did Katara," Aang chortled, a knowing glint in his eye.
Lin raised an eyebrow but Aang didn't stop smirking. Like father like son. Aang had practically invented the shifty thing.
Lin sighed.
"We haven't made any decisions yet," Lin explained quickly as if getting the words out would give her some distance from their implications, "We're just talking because…" Lin broke off and she watched Aang swallow hard.
They both heard the words she didn't say as clearly as if she'd shouted them.
...because you're dying...
They stayed silent for a moment. She hadn't meant for anybody to know yet, especially not Aang.
She could conjure the night clearly in her mind. They'd been lying in bed. Tenzin loved sleeping with the windows open but the night air was still chilly this time of year. Clad in only a thin night shirt, the icy winds whispering against her bare skin gave her goose bumps. Tenzin had his elbow resting on his pillow and his hand propping up his head. His face was a bundle of earnest hope.
"Ten, I don't know. There's too much going on for me to even think about it clearly," she had groaned.
They'd been circling around this discussion for years now, both afraid to approach it directly. But everyday that Aang's skin grew more sallow and his breathing more labored they both felt the marked rise in urgency. It was a conversation they needed to have but she wasn't sure she was ready for it.
"I don't think there ever won't be a lot going on, Lin," he'd mused, winding a strand of her black hair through his graceful fingers.
"Maybe not," she whispered non committally.
"Just tell me Lin, are you ever going to want kids," he beseeched her. She shifted her hand to prop her own head up as well, bringing her eyes level with her fiancee's.
"I want you," she evaded his question with the simple truth, breaking their eye contact to run her mouth over the line of his jaw.
"And I want kids," he shot back, not allowing her glittering eyes and delicate lips to derail him.
She'd flopped onto her back, defeated, and stared at the ceiling, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What if they hate me," she whispered into the nothingness above her.
"Who?" Tenzin asked, not following her train of thought.
"Our kids," she'd continued in a rare display of vulnerability. Rejection was a sensation she was all too familiar with.
"How could they?" Tenzin asked, brushing wisps of hair away from her face but she still didn't turn to look at him again.
"I don't know how to be a mom, Tenzin. You don't understand. You had this great family and I…" Lin's voice had caught in her throat. She stopped and blinked rapidly in succession to clear the moisture that was building at the edges of her eyes. She swallowed and started again, "I had Toph," Lin finished lamely, not knowing how to put into words years of frustration with her mother.
"Lin, your mom loves you," he'd stressed, grabbing one of her hands and bringing her fingers to his lips.
"I know she loves me but… I'm not the life she would've chosen for herself," she confided reluctantly. She didn't mention that she didn't want her own children to grow up feeling like they were the life she adapted to not the one she'd dreamed of, the way she had.
"Being the last airbender isn't the life I would've chosen for myself. But it's the one I have. There's responsibilities that I-"
"Well, I'm in this too Tenzin," she argued, trying to hold her voice steady, "Just say it, you need airbenders."
"That's not the only reason I want to have kids with you," he reassured.
"But it's one of the reasons," she retorted, pulling her hand out of his grasp. She wasn't trying to be difficult but she couldn't put to words all the jumbled thoughts that ran through her head.
Tenzin sat upright suddenly, pulling her up with him. He grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at him.
"Lin Beifong, I want to have kids with you because I love you," he declared, "I love you with everything I am. You're my family," he continued, softer now.
A lifetime spent together had swam behind her eyes. Sometimes she could hardly believe how lucky she was to have known the man who could look straight into her soul her entire life. She rested her head against his chest.
"I love you too," she returned, running her fingers along the blue tattoo that ran up his arm, "I'm serious about what's going on right now though. With your dad, I'm- I'm not sure either of us are in a place to be making serious decisions right now."
"No, no you're right," Tenzin said, sorrow arresting his expression.
"How about we get through this and then we'll talk about kids seriously, we can talk all day if you want, until we can come to a decision," she offered.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
That was two weeks ago and she still didn't know how the inevitable conversation was going to go. She bristled with annoyance at Tenzin. The continuation of airbenders was important to Aang; it wasn't right to get his hopes up for something that may not happen.
Aang reached for her hand and she allowed him to wrap his fingers around hers. His skin had grown so thin, like a delicate sheet of rice parchment. She could see the labyrinth of his veins twisting just beneath the surface radiating blue tinge throughout his complexion. She was afraid to hold his hand too hard in her own calloused grasp. In a way Lin had always felt like that. Like everything in her life was dusted with gunpowder and she perpetually carried a match in her hand. If she slipped up once, she could blow everything good in her life into so many pieces it would never come together again. She tried not to blame her mother for everything but in this way she couldn't help it. Toph had created a world for her that felt tenuous and splintered rather than whole and secure. Lin wished she could say it was in spite of her mother's best efforts but she didn't think that was true. Toph simply didn't notice that the utter lack of convention she found so liberating shackled her mindful daughter to her worst insecurities. Now Lin was always left wondering how close she was to dropping that match and incinerating her world.
Would Mom even notice me if I wasn't so good at my job? What if I messed up, badly, would she still tell people I was her daughter? Would Aang and Katara treat me the same if I wasn't engaged to Tenzin? Is it even possible for me to be a good mother? Will Tenzin still love me if I can't give him airbenders?
A small shudder ran through her just thinking those thoughts and Aang looked at her with concern.
"Lin, I need to tell you something," he said weightily, "apologize really," he added.
"Aang what're you-"
"You're very dutiful, Lin."
Lin Beifong simply nodded unsure what direction the man's mind was headed.
"You're dutiful and it makes you very good at your job."
"Thank you," she intoned, still confused. She'd be disappointed if all the man she'd grown up admiring so much had to say to her was that she was a good cop.
"Most people would say that it will also make you a lovely wife and mother and I'm inclined to agree with them."
Absently, Lin reached up with her empty hand to finger the betrothal necklace tied around her throat. She was unaccustomed to how heavy it felt around her neck. Tenzin had given it to her when they'd gotten engaged but she rarely wore it. Jewelry was not allowed to be worn with the police uniform that she donned the majority of the time and she tended to forget to put it on when she had the day off. But she knew how happy it made Tenzin and Aang to see it strung around her neck so she'd been putting more effort than usual into remembering in light of the current situation.
"But I'm not sure that dutifulness will make you happy," Aang said seriously.
Lin's head snapped up, caught off guard by his words.
"Aang, what're you talking about? I am happy," she insisted.
"Are you?" He implored.
"Yes," her voice faltered so she repeated herself, with more conviction, "yes!"
"I know all you kids were born into a tremendous amount of pressure just because of who you are and I'm so sorry you've had to live with that."
"Don't be," she started talking over him.
"And I know it's partially my fault because I've wanted you for Tenzin ever since your mom told me that she could feel the two of your hearts running a mile a minute whenever you were anywhere near each other," Aang confessed shakily.
"Aang, there's nothing to be faulted for-"
"I know you Lin, I know you," his fingers that had grown bony and rickety, trembled around hers, "And I also know I might not be around much longer which is why I need to you to look me in the eye and tell me that you're going to be happy," he pleaded.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she hesitated, unable to take the way Aang's sunken eyes were boring into her, "I, I…"
Finally she couldn't take it anymore, pent up stress was wringing her insides. She dropped her head into her hands.
"It's just so much," her voice came out small, holding none if its usual authoritative tone.
"I know, I know it is," he comforted her.
"It's like I can never catch my breath, Aang. It's always something. All these people talking at me all the time: 'am I ready to be chief', "can I live up to the Beifong name', 'when will I marry the avatar's son", 'will I give him children' and I'm just… suffocating in the noise," Lin shuddered, feeling as if her heart was about to beat out of her chest. The tears she'd been intent on holding in finally spilled out and she wiped at them furiously, angered by her display of weakness.
"You have a lot on your shoulders and I realize now that your relationship with Tenzin puts more pressure on you than is fair," he said empathetically.
"Nothing's ever fair," she responded bitterly. It was a lesson she had a feeling life would never stop teaching her.
"Lin, when you and Tenzin have that conversation about kids, promise me you'll leave the future of airbenders out of it," Aang requested with resignation.
"I can't leave that out of the conversation. It's a…" she tried to put a name to the enormity of what her and Tenzin meant to the future of an entire nation but couldn't,"...a thing. A really big thing!"
"I know it is, but promise me you'll figure out what you need before you worry about anything else."
"That doesn't sound like very avatary advice," Lin mumbled.
"It's not. I love you like my own Lin and that has nothing to do with your relationship with Tenzin. I hope you know that."
Lin only nodded scared to rattle loose the lump building in her throat.
"You're part of this family," Aang continued sagely, "no one expects you to compromise what you want to make Tenzin or any of us happy. We'll understand if things need to change," he took her hand again and squeezed it tightly.
Lin looked at him, hardly believing what he was saying. Aang had always been perceptive but this was beyond anything Lin had expected for his parting words to her. She'd always known Tenzin wanted a family, she hadn't meant to lead him on. She'd honestly thought that eventually her love for him would culminate into the desire for children and maybe it still would. But it'd been over a decade since the thought first came to her. And while her love for Tenzin only grew stronger such a desire still hadn't come to fruition. How long had Aang sensed that the idea of motherhood filled her with anxiety and it made her absolutely sick to think that the price she may have to pay in exchange for relief was her relationship with Tenzin? How had he known that this ambivalent struggle was tearing her apart.
"Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, Lin?"
She realized she still hadn't said anything.
"I think you're letting me off the hook," she ventured.
He shook his head, "I don't want you to live your life feeling like you're on a hook."
"Aang, I love him so much," she blurted out in an uncharacteristic display of raw emotion, grasping a handful of the bed's linens. He was one of the biggest constants in her life...she didn't want to lose him.
"He loves you too, which is why I know you'll do what's best for each other," Aang finished optimistically.
"Thank you," Lin stood and embraced the man who'd helped guide her through so much of life, "Thank you for everything, Aang."
The night she was born, in this very room, Aang had sworn he'd look after her. And he'd never stopped.
They all kept vigil for the avatar that night. Eventually they'd all moved to stand in the small room. Aang died early that morning surrounded by the people who loved him. It wasn't silent and peaceful the way people liked to imagine a death of old age. In fact it was awful. His chest just started heaving, and his mouth opened to release moist, strangled, gasps.
"It's okay Sweetie, you can let go," Katara had murmured stroking his head, tears dropping from her eyes onto his face, "just let go."
Then it was as if his ribcage just caved in...and he was gone.
Tenzin clutched her arm so tightly he left bruises on the sensitive skin of her inner arm.
Mere days later, they put on their funeral whites and laid him to rest on his memorial island. Plans were in place to construct a statue. But for the moment the island was as barren as their hearts. Tenzin walked ahead of her, guiding his mother with Kya and Bumi. She hung back and took in the somber scene. They procession looked familiar yet so different under the moon's light. Lin saw another side to her mother when she realized large tears were running silently from Toph's sightless eyes.
They all had a lit lantern in their hands and simultaneously let them slip from their grasp. A powerful gust of wind immediately caught them and carried them high into the sparkling night sky. The sweet spring breeze blew through their billowing mourning robes; it was as if Aang's spirit was bidding them all goodbye. Lin watched his wife sink to her knees, face turned toward the heavens. Slowly her kids faded back and the old gang stepped forward. Sokka was the first to crouch down, an arm around his sister. Toph and Zuko followed quickly. Lin watched Katara rest her head on her own mother's shoulder, when Toph sat down next to her and Zuko settled in next to Toph. He reached across the petite earthbender's lap to hold Katara's hand. They all sat in complete silence as they watched the lanterns dance with reverie. Lin swore she could see the thin glittering ties that bound them all together extending from their hearts up to those departing lanterns like ethereal kites. The first of their unbreakable clan was gone.
Lin Beifong felt Tenzin's hands find her shoulders and she leaned back into him. They relaxed into their mutual comfort of each other.
"I can't believe he's gone," he whispered.
Aang was gone but the things he'd taught her were not. He'd given her an incredible gift. Lin had always had a hard time trusting her own decisions when it came to matters of the heart. But Aang knew her heart and his final wish was for her to trust it no matter what change would have to come from it...He'd taken the match from her hand.
A week later, Lin knocked on the door to Tenzin's meditation room. She stepped inside and took a deep breath.
"Tenzin, I'm ready to talk…"